Behind the Door
by moonjump05
Summary: AU. Slight crossover with Howl's Moving Castle. An older Harry gets sent to an alternate universe where things are very different from the world and life he knows. HBP spoilers.
1. Prologue

Godric's Hollow was a sleepy village, nestled away from the activity of bigger and more important cities. Its residents went about their daily business, hardly noting the changing seasons and years, measuring time to more important things. Things like the latest comings and goings at that strange Potter house.

It was nearly twenty years ago, on Halloween night, when the Potters were murdered. An event that shook the dreary little town on that dreary All Hallow's Day- sometimes known as the Day of the Dead.

The Potters were strange people, always saying something just off, or doing something just slightly wrong. But they lived there, they were part of the village, and their murder sent shockwaves that were remembered years later when a young man came asking questions.

He was Harry Potter, the infant boy who survived the madman's attack.

People whispered as he searched the dilapidated house that none of the villagers would go near. People averted their gaze as he walked past accompanied by a tall redhead and a bookish girl with bushy hair.

They didn't answer his questions at first, about what happened that All Hallow's Eve, not able to quite remember with clarity why they were so afraid. Why exactly they cringed away whenever that night was mentioned.

It was almost like something horrible happened to them...

Eventually the Potter boy disappeared, along with his questions. And life went back to normal.

Sure, there were still the strange reports from the cities... people disappearing, freak weather, and _murders_. _But it had nothing to do with the tiny village_, they said. _It would all be over soon_, they said.

And then, suddenly, it was.

It was like someone flipped a switch and all was right with the world. The people of the village went back to their petty gossip and wondered why they ever believed that something was wrong to begin with.

They barely noticed, a few years later, when the Potter boy came back. They hardly blinked an eye when the abandoned house came to life. They merely smiled politely when they saw him walking down the village streets arm in arm with a pretty redhead.

Godric's Hollow returned to being a sleepy village.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

This is the prologue to an alternate universe, slight crossover Harry Potter fanfiction. It takes place when Harry is about twenty years old, and crosses over with the book Howl's Moving Castle. This explains the people of Godric's Hollow, the village where Lily and James Potter lived. I figure some mass memory modification took place there after Voldemort's attack. The people are Muggles so Death Eaters would have had a field day with them.


	2. Golden Days

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was trying very hard not to fall asleep. It wasn't that he didn't care what Ginny's bridesmaids were wearing, but he didn't need to know the pros and cons of _that _color, or why this hairstyle would work well with bushy hair, or why, _Oh Merlin!_, these robes did nothing to flatter the female figure.

"Harry, what do you think?"

"Er..I...I think that's lovely." he said lamely, pretending that he had been listening to the two females in front of him.

The two females saw right through him.

"Honestly," Hermione chided him, "Unless it involves Quidditch they can't be _bothered _to pay attention."

"Maybe I should have the whole thing on broomsticks," Ginny said thoughtfully, "Mum would love that."

Harry chuckled at the mental image of the plump Mrs. Weasley vainly struggling to remain upright on a broomstick.

Hermione scowled, crossing her arms and looking away, "I don't know which of you two are worse."

"Hermione is having a spat with Ron," Ginny explained cooly, seeing the expression on Harry's face.

"I am not," she vehemently denied, glaring at him and Ginny.

This, of course, told him that she was.

"Oh, all right, I am," she conceded, when Ginny raised one eyebrow at her, "But it is entirely Ronald's fault."

Harry merely nodded in agreement, years of experience telling him to keep his mouth shut lest he say otherwise.

Ginny took a delicate sip of her tea, "What did he do this time?" she asked wearily.

Hermione sighed, "He only decided that a certain business opportunity was more important than a certain meeting with me."

_Ah_, Harry thought, _Ron blew her off again_.

"Does this 'business opportunity' have something to do with Fred and George?" Ginny frowned.

"Them!" the bushy haired woman snapped, "When I see them next..."

Harry truly felt sorry for the three Weasleys, he'd have to warn Ron to watch out later. Fred and George were on their own.

"Please try not to dismember my brothers too much," Ginny said offhandedly, "They may be hopeless, but they are family."

Hermione smiled tightly, "Of course, Ginny. I couldn't deprive the world of _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_."

Taking a sip of his own tea, Harry forced the hot liquid down his throat as Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. Apparently they decided the point was moot, "I really like the periwinkle," the redhead offered, "Weren't your Yule Ball robes that color?"

Harry quietly excused himself from his kitchen table as the two ladies poured over ever possible detail of the up coming nuptials. Ginny had hoped to plan the wedding away from the somewhat overbearing presence of her family and pounced on his space, and him for that matter, when he agreed to hide her.

Of course the whole Weasley clan had congratulated him when she said 'yes', Mrs. Weasley cried into her apron, but after the upteenth handshake and good natured death threat he decided enough was enough. For his own sanity, and safety knowing the twins, he and Ginny were spending some much needed and desired time to themselves- a rare commodity since his younger days.

The isolated and sleepy village of Godric's Hollow was perfect, with its slow progression of days- one dreary one right after the next. So bland and normal after so many years of vivid chaos.

The villagers left him alone- no asking for autographs or pictures. No rapid increase in naming baby boys 'Harry'.

Here it was calm and peaceful... his much deserved rest after a battle that nearly cost him everything he held dear...

A chill went up his spine, a dark memory of those horrible moments of utter despair he felt through his scar. Those wretched moments of complete nothingness before he completed the prophesy.

But those days were gone now, carefully shelved away in the back of his mind and the depths of his heart to be forgotten.

Now was a time for happy days. Golden days filled with a smiling Ginny in this tiny backwater village with nothing of more importance than where they would get takeout tonight- for neither were very good cooks.

_Or, perhaps, life would be slightly complicated_, he thought with an inward groan upon seeing a sheepish looking silvery terrier in his living room.

Giving his best impression of Hermione's scowl, he approached the dog, "What is it?"

The little terrier visibly slumped his shoulders and looked down as a familiar voice sounded in Harry's head, "Meet me you-know-where. And don't tell you-know-who!"

Rolling his eyes at his friend's cowardice, Harry took out his wand and dismissed the little terrier. The poor thing seemed almost relieved as it quickly vanished, silvery wisps into air.

There was only one thing to do, Ginny and Hermione would just have to do without his presence for a while. _I'll would make it up to Ginny later_, he smiled.

Pulling on his robes, the spring air was chilly, Harry sneaked out of the house on into his pleasantly unkempt garden. With a loud crack he disapparated.

* * *

You-know-where was a deserted alley of Muggle London surrounded by piles of trash and fire escapes on the dilapidated brick buildings. The late afternoon sun made the walls seem even dingier, and a previous rain left the ground littered with puddles and the air rancid with the smell of decaying refuse.

Harry's entrance went either unnoticed or purposely ignored by any tenets in the buildings around him. Any loud unexpected sounds were better left off alone in this part of town.

"Harry!" a panicked voice sounded from his side, "Good of you to finally show up!"

A tall man with red hair and a long nose came from the shadows of the alleyway, he looked pale and worried, his blue eyes quickly darting from one side to the other, "You didn't tell her, did you?" he asked frightened.

"No, Ron."

"Oh, good," he brightened considerably at this and started to swagger to his best friend, "Not that I was worried or anything."

Harry laughed, sidestepping the puddles, "Of course not. So what is so important that Hermione can't know about it?"

"Just a little something on the side..." Ron trailed off, clearly not wanting to elaborate.

They started the short walk to Knockturn Alley, one of the few redeeming qualities about their meeting place, when Harry asked, "Well?"

"Well what?"

A large danger sign hung on the building in front of them, warning trespassers that it was condemned. Yellow tape was strung liberally across the boarded up windows, and the entrance was locked only with a simple muggle padlock.

Harry pulled out his wand and said, "_Alohomora_!" The door unlocked with a small _click_, and the two ducked past the low doorway leading to the twisting streets filled with wizards, "Why are you skipping out on Hermione?"

"I'm not skipping out on her," Ron said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes, "She's just not supposed to know." he muttered.

"Know what?' Harry asked.

Ron glanced up at his friend, and quickly glanced away again, "Nothing!" he replied, turning as red as his hair before speedily walking away.

Harry stopped in front of a darkened window that had _The Great Wizard Pendragon _painted in old block style letters on it and crossed his arms, "You know I could send for her and Ginny right now." he threatened.

Spinning around, Ron fearfully whispered, "You wouldn't dare."

He smirked.

"Alright alright," Ron conceded, "I needed some extra money to... get-Hermione-something." he finished quickly.

Harry moaned, he should've known it was something like this, "The Auror office not paying you enough?"

Ron snorted, "The place is full of self serving gits, 'cept Tonks- she's gone on maternity leave now, and I get to play office gofer. Too bad you never joined, you'd have the whole office at your every beck and call."

"Which is exactly why I never joined."

"Ever the humble one," Ron laughed, "But Fred and George needed someone with my connections this time."

"What did they want smuggled in?"

"Runespoor eggs, who knows what they need them for, I wasn't about to ask. However the wizard that was supplying them was also dealing in snidgets- had a whole cage full of them. I couldn't let that one go past." Ron shrugged, "So I had to take him in, wasn't happy about it though. I would've made an excellent deal on that one."

"What do you need all the money for?" Harry asked innocently as they started down the street again.

Ron blushed, "Ah... you know...something I should have gotten ages ago..."

"That's why you can't tell her ."

"Bloody hell," Ron swore, "I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

"Well," Harry considered, "If you do what I think you are planning," he paused dramatically, "maybe she'll eventually forgive you."

"I'm doomed."

* * *

Ron decided a drink was in order, to help him face his impending disembowelment, and so he and Harry had a round- or four- at the Leaky Cauldron. And so by the time they left it was dark, the muggle street lights casting a strange yellow glow through the dirty windows.

Diagon Alley was deserted this late, only the few witches and wizards that remained stayed to the shadows, avoiding the two rowdy young men.

"Harry!" Ron shouted, "Remember that time we fought that troll? He was a -hic- nasty bugger."

Harry nodded solemnly, "Nasty bugger alright."

"And remember when Malfoy turned into a -hic- ferret?"

"Twitchy little ferret."

"And remember that time we..." Ron paused, cocked his head to the side confused, "Weren't we -hic- at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Harry just nodded, and threw a friendly arm around a slightly wavering Ron, "Yes, we were."

The redhead seemed surprised at this new information, "Oh!"

Chuckling, Harry lead the tipsy Ron down the street, heading for his tiny flat. He'd deposit him there to sleep off his firewhiskey- Ron could never hold his liqueur.

_Besides_, he thought, _he could always send Hermione over in the morning..._

His thoughts must have shown on his face because Ron turned to him looking worried, "Oh no."

"Don't worry, it won't hurt much."

Ron's eyes widened, "No Harry, behind you."

Quickly turning around and pulling out his wand, Harry stared into the shadows, "_Lumos_!"

The light lit up trashcans and sent cockroaches scattering, but there was nothing there...

"Hahaha -hic- hahaha," Ron laughed, "You should've seen the face on your look!"

"_Nox_," Harry muttered, "I think you had one too many tonight."

"You just haven't had enough."

He didn't even bother arguing, and started to walk away while Ron had another fit of giggles, "Hahaha -hic- hahaha -Arrrgggghhhh!"

Harry was tempted not to turn around for a split second, however a suspicious flash of red light accompanied Ron's sudden cry. He turned just in time to see Ron sprawled out on the wet pavement.

"_Silencio_!" a disembodied voice called out.

He didn't even try to say a spell, and instead crouched down, wand at the ready, to check on Ron. It was alright, he was just knocked out. His eyes darted quickly around him, listening for a giveaway of his attacker. If Ron was only stupefied, then he was clearly the target.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!"

"_Protego_!" Harry thought, the hex ricocheting into the street. A loud _thunk _soon followed, and he quickly sought cover nearby in a large doorway, unable to help Ron until he was sure he couldn't be caught by surprise.

He barely made it in time, several beams of red light passing by just as he flattened himself against the oaken door. He could hear several people advancing, their robes swishing against the ground.

Harry leaned heavily against the door, held his wand up, and prepared to give them a fight.

However he never gothis chanceas the door suddenly unlocked, causing him to fall through.

* * *

Disclaimer: I still don't own it... as if no one knew who owns Harry Potter...

Harry's life is based off of a best case scenario, where everyone lives and is happy. Whether this actually happens after the seventh book, I can only speculate.

Deep understanding of the book Howl's Moving Castle and Castle in the Sky is **not **required, everything will be explained. But when I read it, I was surprised at how well it would crossover with Harry Potter, and I couldn't help myself. Actually, you could probably get away with seeing the movie. But I suggest reading both books by Dianna Wynn Jones.

Thanks for the reviews:

Aurora-Sakura: Thanks! It won't matter- since I fully intend on explaining things.

Flamegirl: That was just the prologue, my chapters seem to get longer and longer as I write.

Never Odd or Even: I liked the prologue too, and I hope this is fast enough for you.

Raya: Here you go!


	3. In Which Harry Finds Out Many Things

Harry woke up on a cold stone floor, feeling the signature cramping and dizziness that were associated with being unconscious. He slowly got up, his mind fuzzy and his vision blurry, he reached for his glasses and slipped them on.

A thick oaken door was in front of him, equipped with a strange handle. It was a disk, painted, it seemed, with different colors. It was currently pointed to black.

Then Harry remembered, the attacks- Ron laying helpless on the cement- falling through the door in front of him. Falling through a door that suddenly opened.

He pulled the latch impatiently, the thick door swinging open easily by itself. However, he didn't pass through, just looked at the dark swirling mist in front of him where Diagon Alley used to be.

Tentatively reaching a hand towards this darkness, Harry wasn't sure is some type of dark magic was at work here- he had never heard of this type of enchantment before. His hand touched the mist- and then passed right through it, disappearing into nothingness a few inches away from the doorframe.

He drew his hand back, still the same old calloused and hang-nailed fingers attached to his palm. Maybe it was some type of illusion? Designed to confuse, instead of harm?

Whatever it was, it wasn't about to stop him from going back to Ron.

Harry was about to put a foot through the mist when a voice behind him spoke, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He spun around, wand at the ready, and searching for whomever spoke, "Who's there?"

"Well you can hardly see me from there, can you?" the voice, a strange kind of crackling voice, quipped back, "Why don't you have a seat at the hearth? Oh, and make sure you shut the door."

Confused and wary, Harry slowly stalked up the stone steps after he reluctantly closed the door, his eyes darting back and forth as if expecting an ambush.

"Yes, that's right. Follow the succulent sound of my voice."

Apparently there was a whole little kitchen above the steps that Harry had not noticed. A big tile sink and comfortable looking chairs in the quaint room. It was like seeing something out of one of his aunt's housing magazines years ago, complete with a rustic oversized fireplace.

"Have a seat."

Harry glanced around, "Where are you?"

"If you sit down you'll see."

Taking a worn wooden chair, Harry sat himself by a cozy little fire.

"Please put a log on, would you?"

He picked up one of the logs stacked neatly by the grate of the hearth and tossed it carelessly onto the fire.

"Hey! Watch where you're throwing things!"

But this time Harry saw the owner of the voice. Blinking he rubbed his glasses, hoping to clean them, however the same strange little face was in the flames still.

"What are you?" Harry shouted, pointing his wand at the creature.

"Oh, real threatening," the little head said, his crackly voice sarcastic, "Let's point a wooden stick at the fire demon."

Quickly hiding his wand behind his back, Harry asked, "A fire demon?"

The little face moved forward on insubstantial fire arms, bright yellow eyes on a blue flame topped with many green flames, "Calcifer's the name."

"Er, I'm Harry Potter."

"Is that so?" Calcifer flickered contentedly on his new log, "Well it's a good thing you showed up, otherwise I'd run out of tinder."

"Why can't I go through the door?" Harry asked, remembering the strange black mist, "And why doesn't it show Diagon Alley?"

"Because that door doesn't lead to Diagon Alley." Calcifer yawned.

"But that's the door I fell through!" the wizard said indignant.

"Oh yes," the fire demon looked sheepish, "That may be my doing."

"How so?" Harry eyed the flame, and crossed his arms.

"Well, I opened the door for you, but someone else blasted the other end!" Calcifer defended himself hotly, "That's hardly my fault!"

"Blasted the other end?"

"Yes, and now the door doesn't work to Diagon Alley."

Harry stared at the fire demon in disbelief, _what kind of crackpot was he? _"What kind of crackpot are you!" he nearly shouted, pulling his wand out covertly, ready to cast _Aguamenti_, "Where else would the door lead to!"

Calcifer huddled behind his burning log, "Turn the knob to red and see for yourself." he said ominously.

Harry shoved his wand in a pocket and huffed down the stairs. He turned the disk to red, and opened the latch.

A great gust of air nearly knocked him over, sending his already messy hair in even more unnatural angles and his robes whipping around his legs. He gripped the doorframe tightly, and cautiously peered out.

There was thousands of feet of air below him!

A pastoral countryside spread out in all directions underneath him, square fields and meandering rivers draining into lakes. He could vaguely see a city below, all streets and buildings. A mountain range peaked over the horizon, and a barren waste stretched for miles.

"Could you shut the door now?" Calcifer asked nervously, "It's getting a bit drafty."

Harry just nodded in disbelief and awe. He was flying!

"Ah, that's better," the fire demon said once Harry collapsed boneless onto the rickety chair, "Sophie promised me a thousand years- I'd be angry if I died from a stray draft."

"I can't get back?" Harry asked dejectedly, ignoring Calcifer's monologue.

"I wouldn't say that."

"What?"

"I may not be able to fix the door," he started, "But Howl or Morgan could do it."

Harry sat up, "Where are they?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be letting in strays to give me more fire wood," the fire demon hissed, "And Wales is so dreary! It rains all the time!"

"Wales?"

"The door leads to Wales too," Calcifer explained waving his little flame arms, "And to Kingsbury- but you don't want to go there."

Harry shook his head in exasperation, "No, I can get back from Wales," he said striding to the door, "I know where _that _is."

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"Er, It was nice meeting you and all," Harry improvised, "But my friend needs me. I have to go back," he paused looking at the door, "How exactly do you work this thing?"

The fire demon snorted, sending sparks into the chimney, "Turn the handle to black."

"But there was this thick mist there before," Harry replied.

"Walk through it."

"Walk through it?"

"That's right," Calcifer laughed, which in a fire demon's case caused him to send tongues of flame in all directions, "Step through the door! Do not be afraid!"

Harry just looked at the strange little face.

"I just wanted to say that one time."

"Right..."

He turned the disk to black and opened the latch. The door swung wide, the strange swirling black mist coalescing just a few inches away. Harry waved awkwardly back, "Thanks, Calcifer."

"Bye, Harry Potter."

* * *

Stepping through the swirling mist only took a moment, and then Harry was on the most ordinary Muggle street he had ever seen.

The door shut behind him, leaving him on a dilapidated porch attached to an even more dilapidated yellow house. The porch floorboards squeaked underneath his feet, and the shutters hung precariously on darkened windows.

The lawn was green and thick, but also a foot and a half high and littered with weeds. The chainlink fence had a broken gate that swayed noisily in the brisk wind- clacking and clicking as it smacked the pin.

Harry pulled his robes tighter, it was much cooler here. And the drizzly rain didn't help, plastering his hair to his head, tiny pinpricks of ice water on his cheek.

The other houses on the street weren't in much better shape than the one he just stepped out of, all dark and unkempt, rusting cars parked in driveways, and aluminum cans of trash seeping in the open air and rain.

Wrinkling his nose, Harry started down the street in search of a place to safely disapparate. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but he had apparated longer distances before, and was confident he would have no problems.

The alleyway behind a nearby convenience store proved, well, convenient, and Harry disapparated with a loud POP!

Meanwhile, in the neighboring house to the yellow one Harry stepped out of, an older, dark haired woman frowned from her place beside the curtained window before disappearing.

* * *

Harry apparated in front of the Leaky Cauldron, not caring about stealth but speed this time. He quickly entered, or at least tried to.

For the first time ever, the Leaky Cauldron was locked.

Frowning, Harry rattled the doorknob a few times, before realizing he was a wizard. He took out his wand a was prepared to cast, but was forced to put it away when an obviously Muggle couple walked down the street. Harry quickly hid behind the bar's stone facade.

"Oi! That there bar ain't ever open," the man muttered, clearly looking for a place to continue drowning his sorrows.

"It was once," the woman replied, grasping the man's arm before he fell over, "But all sorts of weirdos came in an' out of there, 'fore they finally shut it down. Good riddance."

"Whut dey shut 'er down for?" he slurred.

"Murders," the woman said excitedly in her high-pitched voice, "A madman apparently killed the whole lot of them one night. It was all over the papers."

Confused, Harry pondered the muggle's words. _Everyone dead_? He had just left the pub a few hours ago. Tom had smiled his toothless smile when he left.

A horrible sinking feeling settled in his stomach, there was something vastly _wrong _here.

He had to get home.

* * *

The weather at home hadn't improved much, Harry realized as he stood ankle deep in mud after apparating. Sighing impatiently, he pulled his feet out with a loud slurping noise, and gingerly walked up to his front door.

As he started to wave his wand over the many locks, Harry noticed that the locks were open and the door swung easily as he gave it a little push. _What_?

He hurried inside, calling for Ginny and Hermione, but no one answered.

_Maybe they found out about Ron and left the door open accidently..._

"_Expecto Patronum_!" he said, thinking of a message. The silvery stag appeared and serenely gazed at its conjuror. "Take the message to Ginny."

However the apparition just stood there instead of speeding away in a rush of mist as had happened every other time Harry sent a message this way.

"Go!" Harry waved his wand. But instead of sending the patronus, the stag dissolved into the air.

Thunderstruck, Harry's mind reeled, he had been conjuring a patronus since his third year! Why would it suddenly not work now?

Then Harry remembered, the only reason a patronus would not reach someone was if they were dead.

He shook his head, not willing to believe it, unable to believe it- IT WASN'T POSSIBLE!

Harry tried vainly to conjure another patronus, but images of a dead Ginny invaded his mind, not letting him focus on a happy memory. He collapsed onto his old ratty armchair- _wait, his _old ratty _armchair_?

The dark brown chair had never been in his possession before.

He quickly got up, now noticing the other little things around him.

Everything from the floor to the ceiling was in various states of destruction or disorder, and covered with a thick layer of dust. It was nothing like the small but tidy home he had left a few hours ago- it felt like a lifetime ago now...

Harry started to hyperventilate, shock and worry and anxiety and fear creeping up on him. Nothing he had gone through had prepared him for this- it was like living something out of the old Muggle show _The Twilight Zone_.

It was surreal. Somehow his life, his world, had drastically changed without him knowing it. So it seemed like no giant shock when he heard a voice behind him.

"Who are you?"

Harry turned around, halfway in a daze, only to come face to face with someone he never thought he would meet. Someone who he had spent years trying to get vengeance for. Someone he had never known like he was entitled to.

"Dad?" he whispered.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own it, too bad, eh?

First off, I need to credit the Harry Potter Lexicon which is where I got a lot of information for the previous chapter. I also am taking a few liberties with how some of the spells work and such, since J.K. Rowling doesn't explicitly explain them.

Ok, for Howl's Moving Castle, Calcifer makes an appearance, and the infamous door to other worlds does too. Again, I am taking some liberties with the idea- but the essential concept remains the same. I also misspelled Diana Wynne Jones, sorry...

Thanks for the great reviews! But the ratio of hits to actual reviews is saddening people, oh well, I'll take what I can get.

Aurora-Sakura: Thanks again! Things will probably be a bit confusing, but don't worry.

Dragon's Cry: Short and to the point, thanks!


	4. The Pheonix Reborn

It was rather strange to look at your dead father pointing his wand at you, and Harry had seen some strange things in his day.

He was undoubtedly James Potter, perhaps a bit older than in Harry's old wizard photos, but Harry still had the out of body experience of looking in a mirror when perhaps there was none. Or maybe the unique sensation of deja vu or meeting a long lost twin he never knew he had.

The resemblance was uncanny, made so especially in the flesh when Harry was staring open mouthed at his dead father. Now he knew why everyone said he looked exactly like James, photos did not do the likeness justice.

However, the James Potter from photos did not scowl or have a hard edge to the lines of his face. He didn't stand there, pointing a wand at Harry, demanding answers.

And the James Potter from Harry's orphaned childhood fantasies knew his own son.

"I asked you who you were!" James demanded, taking a step closer to Harry.

Harry's tongue was stuck in his throat, he didn't even know if he _could _speak. He was torn between disbelief and astonishment, not quite willing to believe James was really in front of him. He had dreamed of a moment like this for as long as he could remember, but his dreams had not included this horrible feeling of wrongness.

"Answer now, or I'll _make _you answer." James said, leveling his wand at Harry's face. Confusion flashed for the briefest moment on James face when he got a good look at him, before it hardened again.

"Neville Longbottom," Harry answered with the first name that came to mind, discreetly shifting so that he could reach his own wand. He didn't want to hex his father, but if that's what it took...

James raised an eyebrow, "You're lying, the Longbottoms are dead."

_What?_ Harry shuffled from one foot to the other, his mind racing to come up with an identity and with the sudden information of Neville's death. He had just talked to Neville last week! What had happened to him?

"You seem surprised at that bit of information," James said, motioning with his wand for Harry to move, "Why don't you walk that way?"

James herded Harry out of the front room and out into the dreary day outside. The feeble sun had come out, and shone halfheartedly on the estranged father and son.

"Who are you, and why are you here?" James asked, punctuating each syllablewith his wand.

There was no use lying anymore, "Er, Harry."

"Alright, _Harry_," James clearly didn't believe him, "What has brought you here to a house that hasn't been inhabited for years?"

"Er..."

"A house that is unplottable?"

"..."

"That's interesting," James sneered, "In fact I think you are a bit too interesting, so you'll have to come with me- _Incarcerous_!"

Harry's father was too quick for him, and ropes shot out from James' wand tying around his arms and legs. He struggled in vain, unable to reach his own wand, while James unceremoniously grabbed his shoulder and disapparated.

* * *

It was dark, but warm- wherever James had taken them. At least warmer than typical spring weather outside.

"_Lumos_."

The light showed a spartan room with a heavily locked door. However, Harry was in no position to appreciate the subtle interior decorating, as he was still tightly bound and confused.

"You- whoever you are- stay there," James warned striding to the heavy door, "And don't think you can Apparate out of here either, unless you like leaving limbs behind."

Harry's father left, the tell-tale sounds of enchantments sealing the door shut trailing him. If Harry was more clear minded he might be angry at being tied up and left alone in a locked room, but with the events of the last few minutes he felt more like being eleven years old again and just finding out that he was a wizard.

That strange combination of hope and fear threatening to overwhelm him.

He didn't know what to expect. It wasn't like he had much choice, though, he was locked in a room, tied up and unable to Apparate- all because of his dead father.

His dead father, the same person who essentially kidnaped him. If the situation wasn't so ludicrous, Harry would be laughing.

Shuffling over to the plain chair in the corner, Harry sat down, grateful for the support. Now noticing his surroundings a bit better, he realized that this room looked oddly familiar, but he couldn't place it.

He didn't wait long before he could hear voices on the other side of the door, muffled but still suspicious sounding. The row of locks opened one by one, a cascading series of mechanical noises signaling the low squeaking of the large hinges.

Harry braced himself, expecting anything to walk through that doorway.

But _anything _didn't walk through that doorway.

Purple robes, long beard, crooked nose, and twinkling eyes. Harry stared dumbfounded at the man in front of him, remembering a horrible night atop the Astronomy Tower and a phoenix's sorrowful lament.

"I see what you mean, James," Dumbledore eyed Harry over his half moon spectacles, "Perhaps I shall interrogate our... guest?"

James looked chastised, "Sorry." He waved his wand and the robes binding Harry dissolved.

Harry rubbed his arms were the robes had dug into his skin absently and asked in almost a whisper, "Headmaster?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at this and seemed to look right through Harry, "No one has called me 'headmaster' in quite a while," he said, amused, "It brings back such nice memories.

"Ah, but perhaps another time?" he turned to James, "If you would...?"

The older Potter gave Harry one last distrustful look, "I'll be right outside the door."

When they were alone, Dumbledore conjured himself an armchair and seated himself, "Would you like a lemon drop?" he offered the yellow wrapped candy.

Harry couldn't believe it, here was Dumbledore offering him candy like nothing else mattered in the entire world. The fact that it was such a Dumbledore like action nearly moved him to screaming, but he merely shook his head, not trusting his voice.

Dumbledore smiled, "Where are my manners? I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and the man who brought you here is James Potter."

"I know," Harry managed.

"Typically when one introduces himself, he expects the same courtesy to be returned."

Should he tell him? Tell him everything? Harry wasn't sure he even knew where to begin, or if this wasn't some type of dark magic, or maybe he was dead. Two men he had mourned were walking and talking right in front of him, and didn't know who he was! Since Harry was eleven years old, he had lived in a world where everyone knew his name- knew his story.

And here was Dumbledore, a man Harry once believed knew everything, asking who he was, "Harry," he answered as if the name should be familiar to the older man.

"And Harry," Dumbledore did not mention Harry's lack of a surname, "What exactly were you doing in a deserted house in the tiny village of Godric's Hollow?"

"I live there now," Harry replied slowly, almost as if he was convincing himself. His brows furrowed in confusion and his gaze dropped to his muddy shoes.

"I see," Dumbledore said, not in a patronizing way, but as if several pieces were falling into place in the clockwork of his mind, "Was it what you expected, when you walked into your home?"

"No!" Harry looked up to his old mentor, the need to tell him rising, "Nothing was the way it should be! Everything was different! The house was a wreck, and Ginny and Hermione weren't there, and Dad didn't recognize me, and you should be _dead_!" his voice was growing more and more desperate after every syllable.

Dumbledore didn't even flinch, "And yet here I am, and so you are too, Harry," the older wizard said in his impossibly calm voice, "I think, that, you should begin from the beginning, as most tales do."

And so Harry told Dumbledore everything.

* * *

The elder wizard merely listened politely to his words, never questioned or interrupted. Harry's words poured out of him in a way that only a few select people were able to do in his lifetime, a quality that Dumbledore was able to still inspire in him after being dead for nearly five years.

When Harry finished, Dumbledore said nothing for a short while, but gazed at Harry intently as if gauging his truthfulness. It was unnerving, and Harry squirmed a bit in his chair feeling like he was back at Hogwarts.

"It seems as if you have been through much, Harry" Dumbledore finally said, "And I am certain you will go through much more.

"This world is very different from the one you left."

Harry frowned at Dumbledore's sinister words, "What exactly is going on here?"

"You passed through a door," he started, "A door that a certain colleague of mine created. It creates a portal between different worlds every time it is opened. When you were attacked, that portal closed itself."

"And left me here..."

"I will not lie to you, Harry. There may not be a way for you to return."

"_What_!"

Dumbledore held up a hand, "However, do not despair. I will contact my colleague and see what it is that can be done."

"How long will that take?" Harry asked.

"Several days."

Harry sighed, "What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I can't really stay around here, I don't know anything about this place." _And I don't want to see my father looking at me like that again..._

"Then perhaps you should take this opportunity to learn," Dumbledore suggested. When Harry looked back at him, confused, Dumbledore continued, "This is far from a perfect world, yet it holds within it things and people that your own world lacks. You have a chance that may never be offered to you again, Harry, surely you understand?"

A chance... a chance to talk to his father and Dumbledore again... a dream he had harbored since he first looked into the Mirror of Erised.

"Maybe... you should tell me some things about this world," Harry offered, "So that I know what I am getting myself into at least."

Harry's former headmaster smiled that easy smile of his, eyes twinkling, "Sometimes it is the journey that is more important than the destination, Harry."

"Wha-wait!" Harry called after Dumbledore as the older man suddenly got up and glided out the door.

He made to follow, but was stopped by James, "Where do you think you're going?" his father blocked his way.

"Let me through!"

"I don't think so."

"It is quite alright, James," Dumbledore interfered, "This is Harry."

The father looked suspiciously at his son, "I don't know what he told you, Albus, but-"

"-He is to be our guest here until further notice, please inform the other Order members."

James was about to argue, but conceded to the older man's authority, "Fine."

Dumbledore smiled, "I must see to a certain matter now, but feel free to have some father son bonding time."

Silence...

James looked over to Harry with a mixture of hope, horror, and weariness, his mouth opening and closing with no words coming out. Harry glanced away, unable to face James' reaction.

"Wha-wha- WHAT?" James shouted, pointing a shaking finger at Harry, "Father? Son?"

"You said yourself that the resemblance is uncanny," Dumbledore said patiently, "And I have every reason to believe Harry's tale."

James frowned, "But that would mean he's..." he trailed off, suddenly staring at the floor, his body tense.

A wave of sadness passed over Dumbledore too, the old man's face gaining even more lines. Harry glanced between the two, not understanding to quick shift of emotions.

"Yes, James," Dumbledore nodded gravely, before continuing on a lighter note, "It would seem you have Howell to thank for this fortuitous meeting."

"How did the peacock manage that?" James asked, his dark mood still evident.

"Perhaps you should ask Harry that question, as he is the one who went through the door," Dumbledore said wisely, "Sadly, we have no penseive, I would have liked to meet a fire demon." he added as an afterthought.

James, however, did not find that idea to his liking, "I'll do that then," he muttered, giving Harry a stony look.

Dumbledore must have chosen to dismiss James' reticence and addressed Harry, "I leave you in friend's company, Harry, and only ask that you observe this world. Knowledge is a powerful ally, but must be sought out." And with that, he left, whistling down the dark hallway before disappearing into the shadows.

* * *

Sorry it is late, but you take midterms then...

Anyway, here we meet James and Dumbledore, alive and well. Dumbledore was fun to write, and James is rather suspicious of Harry. However, the reasons behind this will be revealed in time.

Howl is mentioned again by Dumbledore, but he uses the name "Howell". This is one in the same person, and different names will be used for different people addressing him. So if you see one and not the other, it is not a mistake(at least I hope not) and typically reflects where the person met Howl/Howell.

Thanks for the reviews!

Aurora-Sakura: Thanks! I know it is late, but hopefully I'll get the other chapters out on time!

CharmedToMeetYou: Thanks!

YumiFukushima: I try at humor, but Calcifer is just too easy to write! I am going more off the books than the movie, but the same concepts are in both. Hope you enjoy!

Marguerida: _Howl's Moving Castle _and _Castle in the Air _are by Diana Wynne Jones, there is also a movie that came out last summer entitled _Howl's Moving Castle _from Studio Ghibli and Hayao Miyazaki, who directed other movies like _Kiki's Delivery Service _and _Spirited Away_. The books are about Sophie Hatter, a young woman who is cursed by the Witch of the Waste. The curse turned her into a 90 year old woman. She ends up in the infamous wizard Howl's moving castle and makes a deal with Calcifer, Howl's fire demon, to lift her curse.

_Castle in the Air _is the sequel, and Sophie and Howl only make a limited appearance.

I don't want to give too much of the story away, so I suggest you head over to your local library and borrow the two books. You'll probably enjoy them as much as _Harry Potter_.

Neferseba: Thanks! I am sorry it is late though...

Linac428: Thanks!

Fairy Blue: Thanks!


	5. In Which Harry Gets Some Answers

The two men looked at each other, still not quite sure what to make of their new found relationship. James clearly wasn't pleased, and Harry... well, Harry suddenly wished he was somewhere else- anywhere else.

"Er... so..." Harry started, not really able to articulate fully. The fact that he dreaded his father's presence and yearned for it at the same time did not help his peace of mind.

"You're Harry?" James asked.

"Yes."

"And you managed to get here through Howell's door?"

Harry shrugged, "It seems that way."

"Why were you at Godric's Hollow?" James inquired after a moments consideration.

"I live there."

James' expression didn't give a smidgeon of what he was thinking away, "C'mon, let's go downstairs."

As they walked down the dark hallway, Harry had the felling that he had been here before, a very strong feeling, "Where are we?"

"A friend's place."

Harry frowned, getting information was next to impossible around here! "You know, you could just tell me." he said stubbornly.

James turned around, "And what if I don't?" he asked harshly.

"'_What if you don't?_'" Harry repeated, "I think I am entitled to an explanation at least."

James laughed mirthlessly, "What? From me? Why would that be?"

"I'm your son," Harry stated.

Green eyes locked with hazel, neither backing down. The older Potter finally glanced away, "_I _don't have a son," he said gruffly, stiffly, "You don't exist in this world."

Harry had expected as much, but to actually hear it was something different. It was strange combination of sadness and curiosity. Sadness for whatever had happened to his alter ego, and curiosity for the same reason. "What happened?" he asked softly but with a force behind the words.

James didn't answer. He turned back down the hallway, walking swiftly.

Following closely, Harry continued questioning his father, not about to let him off that easily, "What happened? Why won't you answer?"

His father ignored his persistent questions, and hurried down a large wooden staircase. Harry trailed him, nearly ready to hex James now if he didn't answer.

Why was he being like this? What could possibly be so bad? Why wasn't he like he was _supposed _to be?

Everyone had gone on and on about his father- Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, even Hagrid- who was this man in front of him then? Some specter? An apparition perhaps? Maybe he really was dead, and this was hell.

James rounded the heavy wooden railing, disappearing for a moment. Harry quickly followed, not noticing the very familiar foyer he walked right through. If he had been paying attention, quite a few of his questions may have been answered.

As it was, Harry was too single minded to see the interior of a house he had spent some of his happiest times. A place that once gave him hope, and later only grief.

So intent of following James, Harry didn't even notice the sudden mass he collided with.

Clutching his bleeding nose, "What the-?"

The mass was a man around his own age, long dark hair pulled into a ponytail and dark eyes, "Who are you?" he asked with an accent Harry didn't recognize and rubbing his forehead.

"Who are _you_?" Harry retorted, not recognizing him in the least.

"Well, aren't you the polite one."

"That's Harry, Morgan," James answered from out of nowhere, to Harry he said, "Morgan is Howell's son."

That name seemed familiar, but Harry couldn't place it. He stopped the blood flow, muttering, "_Tergeo_."

"Harry?" Morgan said surprised, "Is he a new member? Was that why Dumbledore was here?"

"Partially," James said darkly, "He's going to be staying here until your father can fix that doorway of his."

Morgan's eyes whipped over to Harry, "You came through the door? But, why can't you get back through?"

"I don't know!" Harry replied angrily, "That weirdo Calcifer said I couldn't, but I didn't listen and went through anyway and ended up here."

The blood drained from Morgan's face, "You didn't come through a doorway in Diagon Alley did you?" he laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I did," Harry said suspiciously, "Why?"

"Damn," Morgan muttered, "I was hoping no one would find out about that one. That door isn't supposed to work, you see it is only one-way."

"Why would you need a one-way door?"

"You don't," Morgan shrugged, "It just seemed like a neat idea for an experiment."

"_What_!"

"Whoa! Calm down! I didn't know people would be coming through it!"

Harry clenched his fists together, "Can you fix it so I can go back through it?"

"I can try," Morgan offered, "But, I'm not the expert. You'll need my father's help."

James nodded, "Dumbledore is attempting to contact him now."

Morgan snorted, "Hmph, good luck to him and all. Even my mum can't find him."

"With Sophie as his wife, I'm not surprised," James laughed.

"Oi," Morgan agreed, "I don't blame him either."

Harry listened to the banter as nonchalantly as he could, but he couldn't stop the tiny seed of envy that developed. He crossed his arms and decided to ignore the sickly feeling in his gut.

"Morgan, can you do me a favor and show Harry around?" James asked, not looking over at his own son, "I have a few things Dumbledore asked me to do."

"Sure, but you owe me one, then," Morgan laughed.

James nodded and headed away, not even saying a goodbye to Harry. His son watched him go, not sure what to think of his father anymore-not wanting to think about his father anymore.

"So, you a new member of the Order then, Harry?" Morgan asked, motioning for Harry to follow him.

"Er..."

"No?" Morgan asked rhetorically, opening a heavy door, "Just ended up here on a whim, then?"

"The Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked quietly to himself, a cold tendril of dread weaving its way through his abdomen. That feeling intensified as he finally remembered where he was, "This is Number 12 Grimmauld Place." he said rather than asked.

Morgan looked at him a bit funny, "That's right. How'd you know that?"

"I've been here before, but not _here_," he said, sitting at the familiar kitchen table, "This is a rather strange situation I'm in."

"Well, you are from another world." Morgan answered from inside the cupboard he was rummaging in.

Harry frowned.

"I'm not from this world either," Morgan continued, he clearly didn't need someone else to hold up the other end of a conversation, "Mum and me are from Ingary, so's Calcifer. There they don't do all that wand waving you wizards do here, everything's more about incantations and symbols. Mum doesn't even have a wand, but she's considered a powerful witch there. Although I don't know many here that would cross her," he laughed.

"Ingary is a right finer place than this world though," he continued while putting a tin of biscuits in front of Harry, "I feel sorry for the poor saps who live here."

"Why is that?" Harry asked around a mouthful of biscuit.

Morgan sat down, helping himself to a biscuit, "All that You-Know-Who business, they can't seem to get rid of the blighter."

Harry's blood went cold and he dropped his biscuit.

"Oi, you alright?"

_Voldemort_...

* * *

_Cold laughter in a circle around him. Shadowy figures distorted grotesquely and leering. His own breath, quick and shallow, and the pain on his forehead- a searing iron hot brand._

_A whisper in his ear, the low hiss of a snake, "Yesssss, there he isssssss..."_

_He bit his lip to prevent him from crying out, his legs giving way and he fell to his knees. He could hardly see anymore, his glasses long gone and his vision blurred with pain. _

"_The Boy Who Lived..."_

"_The Chosen One..."_

"_Harry Potter..."_

_Whispers and laughter, cold and harsh and unyielding. A circle of Death Eaters._

_He was alone._

* * *

"Oi! You alright there?" Morgan asked, waving a hand in front of Harry's face and ripping him out of his memory.

Harry reached a shaking hand to his forehead, the skin smooth- no trace of the scar that plagued him for so long. He nodded mutely, unable to speak.

"You went all pale there, like you were going to have a fit," Morgan sat back, "You sure you're alright then?"

"Yes," Harry grated out, not wanting the other man to know about his weakness, "I'm fine."

"Alright, alright," Morgan hastily apologized, "Sorry."

Harry frowned, shoving another biscuit into his mouth, and not liking the twist of his stomach at the mention of Voldemort. He lived still, in this strange world. A world that Harry himself had never existed in.

They were still fighting then, still fighting against Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

His own fight ended five years ago, Voldemort fell. He had been looking forward to a life of quiet anonymity with Ginny. Never would he have imagined that he would come across another world, with its own fight continuing onward.

What was he supposed to do? He had already fought his fight, he had already earned his reward. Should he help? Would they let him?

Did he want to help?

Harry honestly didn't know, but he knew he wanted to go home.

* * *

It's short, but I want to get it up before too much time has passed. Besides, I don't want too many characters introduced each chapter.

Aurora-Sakura: Exams just seem to not let up, once one is done I have three more approaching.

YumiFukushima: Here ya go!

Marguerida: You'll find out soon...

Fairy Blue: Thanks!

DDwelling: Harry is in for an emotional roller-coaster, his father being the first of many.


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